Tag: Anti-Semitism

  • The oldest hatred

    The oldest hatred

    Presentation to a panel discussion sponsored by the Jewish Council of Australia at St John’s Cathedral, Brisbane on Monday, 29 September 2025. The topic of the event was: Should anti-Semitism be exceptionalised or should we combat all forms of racism together? Co-hosts for the event included: Doykeit (a local Jewish group in Brisbane), St John’s Cathedral, United Nations Association of Australia (Qld Division), Queensland Muslim Inc and the Justice Unit of the Anglican Church Southern Queensland.

    Video from the livestream


    As I acknowledge the Yaggera and Turrbul people as the owners and custodians of the land on which we gather this evening, I am also conscious of my need to acknowledge the victims of apartheid, ethnic cleansing and indeed genocide in Gaza and across the West Bank at this very moment.

    I note that we are not here this evening to debate Zionism, nor to discuss Israel’s conduct during its extended occupation of Palestine, nor even its more recent destruction of Gaza.

    However, those realities remain in the background or, if you prefer, they look remarkably like an elephant sitting silently in the middle of the Cathedral.

    In any case, as we know, any attempt to criticize Israeli policy in Gaza, or indeed within Palestine during the last 80 years, is immediately met with accusations of Anti-Semitism.

    Inevitably, a discussion of Anti-Semitism is entangled with the problem of Zionism and the question of Palestine. 

    But let me keep the focus on the narrow question before us this evening, which is whether Anti-Semitism is an exceptional example of racism—or, perhaps better, religious vilification—that requires to be addressed in unique ways, or whether it is best understood as one particular form of the virus of xenophobia which we see in so many parts of our society at the present time.

    The uniqueness—the exceptional character—of Anti-Semitism is perhaps its longevity and its theological origins.

    So let me cut to the chase.

    Christians have a long and dark history of anti-Semitism.

    I sometimes think of Anti-Semitism as the original sin of Christianity, just as settler colonialism is the original sin of the Commonwealth of Australia.

    As a Christian, then, I find myself caught between the demands of justice and the obligation of humility.

    It is not particularly difficult to recognize the stunning injustice that has been perpetrated upon the Palestinian people, at least since the Balfour Declaration of 1917 and certainly since the creation of the modern state of Israel in 1948.

    However, my capacity to name and shame that blight upon humanity is tempered by my own status as a Christian.

    You see, if Christians did not invent anti-Semitism, we certainly perfected it.

    I teach Biblical Languages, including Biblical Hebrew, at St Francis Theological College—the Brisbane campus of the University of Divinity. As I frequently point out to students, there is a very simple reason why we have only a handful of ancient and medieval manuscripts for the Jewish Scriptures compared with the 10,000+ manuscripts for the Christian Scriptures.

    The simple reason is that Christians from at least the time of Constantine through until at least the time of Martin Luther did everything in our power to harass the Jewish community and—in particular—to destroy their sacred texts. 

    Whenever we could find copies of Jewish prayer books and the Hebrew scriptures these would be destroyed.

    That equates to at least 1,200 years of violent Christian Anti-Semitism.

    The roots go farther back into the New Testament itself with the blood libel that “the Jews” killed Jesus. That historical fiction conveniently absolves the Empire of responsibility; while creating a scapegoat for centuries of hatred.

    In a haunting parallel with the contemporary IHRA definition of Anti-Semitism, this ancient blood libel identifies the evil actions of the ruling elite with the people as a whole.

    We cannot accuse the ancient Jews of Palestine with complicity in the murder of Jesus, just as we must not confuse Zionism with Judaism; despite the best efforts of the Zionists to wrap themselves—and their crimes against humanity—in the holy robes of Judaism.

    The darkest of these biblical passages is doubtless the fiction fashioned by the author of the Gospel of Matthew, who invented the idea of the Jewish crowd (not the elite, mind you) invoking a divine curse on themselves and their children:

    Then the people as a whole answered [Pilate], “His blood be on us and on our children!” [Matt 27:25]

    Matthew is the most Jewish of the Gospels in the New Testament and yet the one most prone to say hateful things about the Jews and their religious leaders.

    Exceptional certainly comes to mind when we face that dark stain on Christianity.

    That shameful legacy requires me to speak with humility on the question of Anti-Semitism, while not privileging Anti-Semitism as a particularly nefarious expression of xenophobia.

    Even if we agreed that Anti-Semitism is simply one variant of the wider problem of xenophobia and racism, that would still leave the question of what constructive role Christians can play in this dynamic given our shameful legacy as the perpetrators of Anti-Semitism, in particular, over almost two thousand years.

    One response might be silence, but silence is at best ambivalent and almost always represents a de facto position in support of the abuser rather than solidarity with the victim.

    A very different response is seen in the Christian Zionist movement, which is particularly strong amongst evangelical Christians, and especially so in the United States of America. This really bad theology has its roots in the apocalyptic fantasies of 17th-century England. 

    While it offers enthusiastic support for the creation of Israel and an eagerness to justify any and every action taken by Israel against the Palestinians, Christian Zionism is actually driven by a fundamentally Anti-Semitic principle. You see, the end game is that all Jews will all become followers of Jesus. Or else they will die.

    We clearly need a more nuanced option. This will be one which takes seriously the dark legacy of Christian Anti-Semitism, while also embracing the principles of international humanitarian law which have been rescued from the ashes of the Holocaust. 

    In such a response, the Holocaust is no longer a “get out of jail” card for Jewish nationalists but rather a constant reminder that “never again” means never again; never here, never there, and never for any marginalized group, regardless of their faith, ethnicity, gender identity, or sexuality. Never again applies to everyone. Every where.

    The history of Christian Anti-Semitism compels me to oppose Anti-Semitism more generally, while simultaneously opposing crimes against humanity executed by a settler-colonial society that claims to represent Jews all around the world. 

    My Christian faith is grounded in the prophetic tradition of ancient Judaism. 

    The prophets of ancient Israel demand that I speak and act for justice.

    This obligation is increased—not lessened—by the dark history of Christian Anti-Semitism.

    When antisemitism is exceptionalized, xenophobia is allowed to spread unchecked.

    It will spread most rapidly and cut most deeply in those segments of our community with fewer privileges and less wealth. While the elite engage in lawfare to silence their opponents and critics, others choose to stay home rather than risk abuse if they walk on our footpaths wearing a head scarf.

    Every form of racism and every expression of xenophobia have to be named and shamed. This extends from the anti-immigration marches in city streets, to the graffiti on the wall of a synagogue, to bomb threats against a Muslim school, and to attacks on Hindu temples. 

    Australians aspire to be a community that celebrates difference and is the richer because of the many gifts brought into our community by people who have come from various parts of the world.

    All forms of xenophobia and racism are to be condemned and opposed. This includes Anti-Semitism, but is not limited to that most ancient of all hatreds.

  • The cleansing of the church

    Lent 3 (B)
    Christ Church Cathedral Grafton
    4 March 2018
    [video]

    The lectionary today switches us across to a series of readings from the Gospel of John. For the next three Sundays our gospel readings will come from John even though we are in the year of Mark.

    The Gospel of John offers us a different take on Jesus.

    John sees Jesus very differently from the three synoptic gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

    One of the differences concerns the identity of Jesus’ opponents.

    In the synoptic gospels the opponents are various political and religious groups within Second Temple Judaism: Herodians, Pharisees, Sadducees and scribes. But in the Gospel of John the opponents of Jesus are routinely described as “the Jews”.

    We see that very easily in today’s gospel message, which begins with the statement that “the Passover of the Jews” was happening followed by repeated references to the Jews as the opponents of Jesus.

    Quite apart from this explicit labelling of the opponents of Jesus as being the Jews, a story such as this week’s text represents Jesus in profound conflict with the Temple hierarchy, and thus in conflict with the central institution of Jewish life at the time.

    This is exacerbated by the way the story is moved from later in the life of Jesus and placed by John directly after the miracle of the water being turned into wine at Kfar Kana, Cana.

    It is of the very essence of that story—as told by the gospel of John—that the ‘water’ of the Jewish religion is being replaced by the ‘wine’ the Jesus religion.

    This is a clear and unambiguous anti-Semitic statement.

     

    Anti-Semitism

    Anti-Semitism is one of the worst stains on the conscience of Christianity. It ranks right up there with child abuse and cover-up, but is even worse; hard though it is these days to imagine anything worse child abuse and cover-up.

    Anti-Semitism has been a feature of Christian life from the time that Christians first gained political power after the conversion of the Emperor Constantine. However, its roots run much deeper into the text of the New Testament itself as we can clearly see in the Gospel of John.

    In case we missed his point, John moves the episode of Jesus creating a scene in the temple from the end of the story back to the beginning of his account of Jesus’ public activity.

    For the author of John’s gospel, this scene sets the tone for the ministry of Jesus. For John, that tone is deeply anti-Semitic.

    It would have been comfortable for me this morning to focus on the first reading from the book of Exodus or even second reading from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, but it is impossible to remain silent when such an anti-Semitic text read out loud in the Cathedral.

    Silence suggests consent.

    Worse still, silence allows hateful attitudes towards Jews to become embedded in our spiritual DNA as Christians.

    This animus is even found in First Corinthians 1, although it is not quite as virulent as we see in John’s gospel. Paul is writing to the Corinthians and “the Jews” are listed as one of the groups of opponents of the gospel who persist in asking wrong questions because they do not wish to believe.

    Although Paul — like all the early Christian leaders — was Jewish, his letter betrays a profound level of antagonism between his mission and the religious leadership of Jewish society.

     

    The Decalogue

    Such a nasty turn in the rhetoric between the followers of Jesus and the adherents of Moses is all the more remarkable today when our first reading is from the Decalogue, the Ten Commandments.

    These ancient laws are Jewish laws.

    They summarise our fundamental duties in human life:

    duties to God
    duties to parents/family
    duties to other people

     These laws derive from the heart of the foundational Jewish story: the account of the exodus as God rescues the Hebrew slaves in Egypt. This is not a marginal Jewish tradition, but something which is very close to the very heart of Jewish identity.

     

    Wisdom for faithful living

    This insidious poison of Christian anti-Semitism which we find in the new Testament and throughout church history, must be opposed and denounced at every turn.

    This is also true of its modern twin Islamophobia.

    Fear of the other has no place in the Christian faith.

    Hatred towards those who are different has no place in the Christian faith.

    Arrogance which assumes we are better than others has no place in the Christian faith.

    So where is the heart of the gospel in all this and what are we to make of the memory of that scene in the Temple all these years ago?

    It seems best to understand the incident in the Temple as a symbolic prophetic act by Jesus.

    He was not seeking to storm the Temple or to make it the base for a revolt. That would happen around 40 years later, but had nothing to do with Jesus.

    Rather, acting in typical Jewish fashion—and in perfect consistency with the examples of the Jewish prophets in the Scriptures that we still share with Judaism—Jesus was making a vivid prophetic denunciation of the way that the Temple was serving the interests of the rich and powerful.

    This is not an anti-Semitic act.

    Jesus was thoroughly Jewish and so was this act.

    He was calling the Temple hierarchy to account for their failure to live by the covenant for which the Ten Commandments constitute a summary of basic principles.

    We should recall that Jesus himself summarised the law in a similar way to other Jewish teachers in his own time: love God, and love your neighbour.

    This is the heart of the covenant with God: for Jews, and Christians, and Muslims.

    On this spiritual wisdom we all agree.

    As Jesus saw it, the corruption at the Temple was failing to honour God and was also exploiting the poor.

    No love of God here, and no compassion for other people.

    By the time the Gospel of John is composed, a bitter divide has happened between followers of Jesus and their Torah-observant Jewish peers.

    The vitriol was extreme, as we see consistently through the Gospel of John.

    John and his first readers had no extremist agenda to attack Jews. But his language would feed later generations of anti-Semitic thinking and actions within the Church at times when Christians had both the capacity and the desire to harm Jews.

    For this we hang our heads in shame.

    What must we give up this Lent?

    Anti-Semitism for sure!

    So we stand alongside Jesus, the Jewish prophet from Galilee as we call on our religious institutions to walk the talk, to serve always the mission of God in the world (rather than their own self-preservation), and to protect the vulnerable and the weak.

    In this Cathedral there can be no anti-Semitism. Ever.

    Passionate as I am about Palestinian rights to justice and self-determination, there is no excuse for anti-Semitism as we stand in solidarity with people who have lost land, family, homes and hope.

    Similarly, there is no place for Islamophobia here.

    This Cathedral—like the Temple in Jerusalem—is a house of prayer for all God’s children, and we welcome our Jewish and Muslim friends to find here a place of pilgrimage and prayer.

    If you love God, you are welcome here.

    If you love your neighbour, you are welcome here.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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